


Kansas City Shuffle

by purewanderlust



Category: Ocean's (Movies)
Genre: Caper Fic, Con Artists, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 03:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9053581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purewanderlust/pseuds/purewanderlust
Summary: Danny flashed a megawatt grin as he gestured between Rusty and the mark like he hasn't just ruined the cover story they'd so carefully put together. And if that wasn't typical Danny, Rusty didn't know what was.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A Kansas City Shuffle is a con where they look right...and you go left.
> 
> Happy fifteenth, _Ocean's Eleven_! Love me a good heist.

Rusty had always relied on a carefully cultivated image of disinterest. Disengaged, dismissive, distant.  It kept people guessing, prevented them from probing too deeply or asking personal questions. On the job, and in his relationships, his aloof attitude served him well.

It was doing jack-shit for him right now.

“Daniel Banks, I didn't expect to see you here! Who is your companion?”

Such a simple question, and yet Rusty couldn't've possibly anticipated how wildly out-of-control that innocent query would send his life spinning.

“This is my fiance, Robert Wesley.” Danny flashed a megawatt grin as he gestured between Rusty and the mark like he hasn't just ruined the cover story they'd so carefully put together. “Rob, this is the collector putting on the art showing, Mr. Jacoby.”

Granted, they hadn't factored in the possibility that they would run into Reginald Jacoby before the gala tomorrow. Word on the street was that the old man was terribly superstitious and never visited the gallery the day before a showing. It had seemed like a perfect opportunity to case the joint before the big event, and now it was backfiring rather spectacularly.

Rusty didn't let the surprise he felt show on his face. He clasped Jacoby’s proffered hand in a brief, firm shake. “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Jacoby.”

“Oh please, call me Reginald. No need to stand on ceremony here.” He stepped to the side and elbowed Danny playfully in the ribs. “You've got quite a catch here, Daniel!”

Danny broke out another one of those better-than-a-toothpaste-commercial smiles and wrapped an arm around Rusty's waist. “Don't I know it.” He heaved a put-upon sigh, but didn't let go. Rusty tried not to squirm in his grip. “I was just telling Rob that I don't have a plus-one for tomorrow night, so he's got to find a way to entertain himself during the evening.”

Jacoby's eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, nonsense! You must come, Robert. We can't deprive our dear Daniel of his arm candy, can we?”

Danny's arm was warm and strong around his middle as Rusty answered. “It would be a tragedy of epic proportions.”

 

*

 

He waited until they got back to their hotel to have it out. Danny was chattering away a mile a minute about something, gesturing with his hands while Rusty silently kept step beside him, hands shoved into pockets. Rusty had always been the quiet one, never really minded it until now. He remembered the heat of Danny's body pressed up against his side at the gallery and frowned.

Talkative Danny might have been, but dumb he was not. As soon as they walked into his suite and shut the door, he had his hands up and his con-man smile on. “Alright, but--”

“Why?” Rusty asked.

“I was working within the circumstances.”

“What about...?”

“You were nowhere near ready to play that con out,” Danny said, like Rusty didn't already know. “No costume, no accent, and most importantly you weren't supposed to know me.”

“Fine,” he conceded, “but of all the things you could've come up with?”

“I didn't take you for a homophobe, Rus.”

Rusty bristled. “I'm not, Danny. You know that. But pretend couple? That shit's amateur hour.”

Danny grinned again, his real smile this time, like he knew he was winning the argument. Rusty knew it too, but he still had to put up a token protest.

“Next thing you know, you're gonna have us dressing up as clergy.”

“You'd look nice in a vicar's collar.”

Rusty glared and Danny finally relented, laughing.

“Okay, okay. You remember his dossier? The live-in assistant, Barnaby?”

“Not actually an assistant.”

Danny shaped a gun with his fingers and fired it at Rusty's heart. “Bingo.”

And yeah, Jacoby was definitely more likely to be receptive to a nice, young gay couple if he was gay himself. Obviously, Danny's gamble had worked out and gotten them the second ticket they needed, but that didn't mean Rusty had to like it.

“Robert, though, really?” He grumbled, looking at a spot on the carpet because it was easier than making eye-contact.

He saw Danny shrug in the corner of his eye, far too casual to be unintentional. “You've used it before.” He didn't add  _ with Isabel,  _ which was just as well, because then Rusty would've been obligated to get mad in earnest. That was long over and whether he knew it or not, Danny was a contributor to its end. He wasn't allowed to say anything.

Rusty realized he'd been quiet too long, so he pulled a tootsie pop out of his pocket, unwrapped it, and stuck it in his mouth. “I get to be the guy.”

Danny smirked, but there was warmth behind it. “I think the whole point is that we're both guys.”

Rusty popped the sucker out of his mouth and jabbed it at his friend for emphasis. “You're an asshole, Danny Ocean.” He smirked too, which Danny seemed to buy. Rusty changed the subject, demanding to know when they were going to get something to eat. But he couldn't quite ignore the sinking feeling that there was only one way this could end, and that was badly.

 

*

 

Rusty had a rule about getting distracted on the job. To wit: don't get distracted on the job. He’d failed before, of course--that business with Isabel being the most obvious example, but by and large, he was very focused. A goddamn professional.

One of them had to be and it certainly wasn't going to be Danny, who seemed to have his own private rules--Have Way Too Much Fun and Look Way Too Damn Good coming in second and third behind Make Rusty's Life Hell in bold letters in the number one slot. It was only partially his fault. He was a smarmy jackass, but at the end of the day, he was Rusty's smarmy jackass. If that made Rusty a little possessive, that was his problem and nothing Danny needed to be made aware of. Though Rusty knew he was clever enough to have figured it out by now, if he’d really wanted to.

They went back to the gallery because they hadn't had a chance to finish casing the place earlier, since he had practically dragged Danny out after his little improvisation. As they were walking in, Rusty had the realization that Jacoby had probably assumed their abrupt departure had been for some sort of romantic liaison. He immediately wished he could forget the thought, because the last thing he needed right now were mental images of  _ Danny  _ and  _ romantic liaisons  _ in any sort of combination.

“Hey,” Danny was looking back at him, eyebrows raised, and Rusty realized he'd started to trail behind. “You with me?”

Rusty nodded, shoved his hands in his pockets and followed Danny down the hallway.

They found the display deserted this time and Rusty let some of the tension seep out of his shoulders. The piece wasn't there yet--wouldn't be until tomorrow night--but this was just recon. That was something he could handle.

“A god’s honest Rembrandt.” he said, snapping his gum. “Never tried for one of those before.”

Danny came to stand next to him, left shoulder pressing against his right. “I like to keep things fresh.”

“How’d you find it?”

“Saul,” Danny answered instantly.

“So when he calls, you ditch the suburbs, but when I call…”

“You never do.”

Rusty grinned in spite of himself. “Lost my cell again.”

“Haven't you ever heard of a payphone? You have no romance in your soul.”

“What, and have Tess pick up?” It's more than he meant to say, but Danny didn't seem to notice.

“C'mon, let's get out of here. I'll buy you dinner.” With one last glance at the empty frame, Danny turned and walked out of the room.

Rusty followed.

 

*

 

The restaurant Danny picked out was a little Italian place that skirted the line of being kitschy, but for the extensive wine selection and top-quality steaks. Rusty ordered plate of fettuccine the size of his head and a glass of their best merlot. Danny flicked a glance at the menu and told their waiter to just bring the bottle.

They finished ordering and Rusty leaned back in his seat, feeling the most at-ease he'd felt all day. He opened his mouth to make some comment about the job, but was interrupted by a voice from the table behind them.

“Daniel, my boy, is that you? What a coincidence!” Mr. Jacoby abandoned his table to walk over and clap a hand on Rusty's shoulder. “And your charming fiance too, how marvelous.”

If Danny was surprised, he didn't let it show on his face. “So good to see you Reginald. Twice in one day, too! What are the odds?”

Rusty was wondering the same thing, even as he fixed a polite smile on his face.

“Oh, you simply must join us for dinner. Waiter!” Jacoby waved the server over before either of them could argue, “Would you be so kind as to put our two tables together?” The waiter complied with such speed that Rusty had to wonder exactly how much the old man was worth after all.

“Boys,” Jacoby said as they got settled at the new, larger table, “Allow me to introduce my associate, Barnaby Smith.” The well-dressed gentleman opposite them gave a cursory nod.

“Pleasure.”

“So,” the old man said, leaning forward with all the intent of a hairdresser getting ready to share some juicy gossip, “how did you boys meet?”

“We've actually known each other since we were kids,” Danny answered honestly. “Grew up in the same part of Jersey.”

“How romantic!” Jacoby exclaimed and Rusty almost choked on the bread he'd just popped in his mouth. Danny thumped him on the back in a way that felt rather patronizing. “Have you been together that whole time?”

Danny grimaced. “Ah, no. I had a lot of growing up to do first. Trials and tribulations of young adulthood.” He reached out and put a hand over Rusty's on top of the table. “Luckily, Rob waited for me.”

Danny’s hand was warm on his. Rusty picked up his wine glass with his free hand and took a slightly larger-than-necessary swallow. He noticed Barnaby studying him silently and forced a smile. “I've always been a little quicker on the uptake than Danny.” The two old men chuckled and Danny stepped on his foot under the table. Rusty's grin broadened.

“Well,” Jacoby said, eyes sparkling with mischief, “At least he has his looks.”

Rusty gave a genuine laugh and Danny kicked him in the shins. “ _ Anyway… _ ”

“Ah yes,” Mr. Jacoby folded his hands, “the trials and tribulations.”

“We didn't see each other for a few years, and then we reconnected though a mutual friend in Vegas. Decided to make a go of it.”

“So how long have you been together? And you're just now engaged?”

Danny hesitated and Rusty darted a glance at him. His brow was wrinkled in contemplation and it took him a moment to answer. “Unfortunately, I didn't realize what I wanted for a long time. I know now, though.”

Rusty looked away, absently twirling fettuccine on his fork. It was easy to forget, sometimes, how sincere Danny's lies sounded.

“Well, you've been blessed with a man that understands patience. Most wouldn't be so forgiving.” Reginald met Barnaby's eyes, even as he directed his words at Danny, and Rusty spotted a genuine flash of affection there. He wondered what their story was.

Danny nodded as if he had said something profound and Rusty brought the glass to his lips again rather than dwelling on it.

The rest of the dinner passed in a haze. Danny was so much closer than usual, with these little fleeting touches and smiles. Rusty played along, reserved but friendly, and putting away an impressive amount of wine so he didn't have to think about any of it. 

 

*

 

When they finally were allowed to bid their goodbyes, Rusty leaned heavily on Danny's shoulder as they made their way back to the hotel. His head was spinning. Danny was warm and steady under his hands, the only fixed point in the universe.

“Do you remember the time?” He asked as Danny shoved him into the back of a waiting cab.

“Of course.”

“And then you--”

“That wasn't my idea.”

“It's  _ always _ your idea.”

“Fair point. But it wasn't  _ my _ mother's liquor cabinet.”

“Semantics.”

“You're almost as drunk now as you were then.”

“You had the talking part covered.”

“Does that make you the strong, silent one?”

“We already established you're the pretty one.”

Danny laughed at that, harder than Rusty thought was entirely warranted, but he was too drunk to sort it out. Besides, they'd arrived back at the hotel and Danny was hauling him out of the car with a wave of thanks to the cabbie.

They rode the elevator up to their floor in silence, Rusty staring at Danny’s profile and Danny staring at nothing the way he did when he was thinking. A strange surge of longing welled up in Rusty’s chest, but he didn’t want to examine it too closely. “What time is the gala?” he asked.

“Nine pm. Don’t worry, you’ve got plenty of time to sleep off that hangover you’re working on.” Danny slanted a sideways glance at him through dark eyelashes.

“I’m not hungover.”

“Not yet.”

Danny supported him all the way back to his suite and then snaked his keycard to unlock the door. He half-dragged Rusty to the bed and shoved him down on the mattress.

“Danny?”

“Hmm?”

“Does Tess know you’re here?” He flopped over onto his stomach, words half muffled in the pillows. Danny was running the tap in the bathroom and there was a long enough silence that Rusty started to think he hadn't heard the question.

“‘Course.” The tap cut off and he heard the clink of a glass being set down. “Get some sleep, Rus.”

Danny might've touched his hair then, on his way out the door, but it was probably just wishful thinking.

 

*

 

“You've looked better,” Danny said in greeting the next morning. He was leaning against the doorframe, his white button-down loose around his neck, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Morning light from the window outlined him with a golden scrim. Looking at him made Rusty's head ache.

He squinted, levering himself up on one elbow. “I've looked worse.”

Danny conceded with a tilt of his head. “Breakfast?”

“Now you're speaking my language.”

 

*

 

Rusty felt much more human after a shower and a greasy meal, so they settled on the sofa in Danny's room to go over the plan again. Danny unrolled a copy of the gallery floorplan on the coffee table, weighing down the corners with the TV remote and a half-empty wine bottle. Rusty fished through the bag of gummy worms he'd found in his pocket and watched Danny out of the corner of his eye.

“We can't take it out the front door because Jacoby supposedly microchips all his paintings and the alarm will go off.”

Rusty gave him a scandalized look. “He'd do that to a Rembrandt?”

One of Danny's shoulders came up in a half-shrug, which was the closest he ever came to admitting he didn't know something. “That's what our intel says, so we better not take the risk.”

“That ruins the integrity of the whole painting…” Rusty muttered.

Danny shot him a long-suffering look, but otherwise didn't deign to respond. “There's a service hallway at the back that goes past the kitchen. There's a guard, but I paid off the wait staff to distract him. Elevator goes down to the alleyway and we're gone before anyone even realizes anything's missing.”

“Sounds simple enough. And the pinch will take out the lights and cameras long enough for the switch?”

“According to Bash, yeah.”

Rusty pulled back, raising his eyebrows. “Basher got you the pinch?”

“Yeah, and I bet you won't believe who did the forgery.”

“Who?”

“Linus. Kid's so determined to stay out of Bobby's shadow that he taught himself to paint.”

“And he just gave it to you?” Rusty wasn't sure why he was so hung up on the details, but it seemed odd. “He didn't want in at all? Or Basher?”

Danny shook his head. “They're our friends, Rus. Sometimes the help really is free. Besides, this is a two-man job. Just you and me.” He nudged Rusty's knee with his own, just a split-second of pressure and then he got to his feet. “We better start getting ready, the gala’s in two hours.”

Rusty watched him disappear into the bathroom before he returned to his own suite down the hall. He turned on the sink with a quick jerk off his wrist and splashed some cold water on his face. Time to focus. The sooner they got done with this job the sooner they'd split up and Rusty could go back to never thinking about this nameless thing again.

 

*

 

They arrived a quarter past nine, not wanting to draw attention to themselves by being the first through the door, but Jacoby spotted them almost instantly anyway.

“Daniel, Robert! So glad you could make it!”

Danny nodded. “The pleasure is ours, truly.”

“I hope we haven't missed your speaker,” Rusty chimed in. “Danny was telling me she's going to speak on the importance and techniques of painting restoration.”

“You haven't missed her. The segment is scheduled for 10 pm.” Mr. Jacoby reassured him. Danny met Rusty's eyes and dipped his head ever so slightly.  _ 10 pm. _

“I'm so looking forward to it.”

“My, my. You boys certainly do clean up nicely.” The old man added, giving them both an appraising look. Rusty tugged self-consciously at the sleeve of his tux, missing his silk Armani. Danny shot him a triumphant look, which Rusty pointedly ignored. Just because Danny looked better than Bogie when he wore a tuxedo didn't mean everyone did.

Thankfully, more guests arrived to monopolize Jacoby's attention before the conversation could continue. Rusty and Danny slipped away amid the hubbub and went to the bar for a drink.

“Told you,” Danny said, “Those flashy suits are an abomination.”

“Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to criticise another man's wardrobe choices?” Rusty said lightly.

Danny smirked over the rim of his scotch glass. “Must've missed that lesson.” He leaned in towards Rusty, resting his forearm on the bar. “Thirty minutes to kill. Wanna dance?”

Rusty was already nodding before the second part of what he'd said registered. “Wait, what?”

“There's a dance floor, we've got time…”

“Uh, don't you think that'd draw a little too much attention?” Rusty pointed out in an admirable imitation of someone who wasn't nervous. Rusty Ryan didn't get nervous. “There's not exactly a bunch of gay couples out there.”

Danny arched an eyebrow at him. “So?”

“I don't dance.”

“I've  _ seen _ you dance.”

“Who's even supposed to lead?” Rusty protested, even though they both already knew what the answer would be.

Danny flashed him an enigmatic smile. “I am.” He grabbed Rusty's hand and pulled him to his feet dragging him away from the bar and towards the dance floor. He pulled until they were nose to nose, fingers settling lightly on Rusty's hip.

“You with me?” He murmured, a hint of challenge in his voice as he offered his right hand.

Rusty took his hand because he’d never been able resist a dare, but mostly because he'd never been able to resist Danny. As soon as he linked their fingers together they were off, spinning across the floor, Danny leading and Rusty following.

“See? Not so bad.”

Rusty snorted a laugh. “You just say that because you're a better dancer than me.”

“Tess made me take a class once.”

“Did you ever go dancing with her after?” Rusty asked before he could think better of it. He dropped his gaze to somewhere around Danny's left earlobe.

Danny chuckled. “Nope. But I have used it on at least three jobs since then.”

Rusty wasn't sure how to respond to that, so they lapsed back into silence. He glanced over Danny's shoulder and spotted Barnaby watching them approvingly from one of the cocktail tables. He nodded when their eyes met and Rusty bit the inside of his lip. He wished he had some gum or candy to chew on. When he looked up again, Danny was watching at him with a wry smile.

“Weirdest thing you've ever done for a job?” he asked.

“You know it's not,” Rusty answered, grateful for a topic of conversation that could distract him from whatever dangerous direction his mind wanted to travel.

“Belize.”

Rusty inclined his head. “Reuben sure knows how to pick 'em.”

“That he does.” Danny paused. “Rus, listen…”

The song ended and Rusty glanced at his watch. “It's go time.” He released Danny and took a couple steps back. They must've spun more times than he realized; he felt dizzy.

Danny nodded and they headed back towards the hallway to the gallery. As they stepped into the hall, Rusty heard someone make an announcement that the galleries would be closing in five minutes and the speaker would take the stage.

They kept a sedate pace walking down the hall, casually chattering about nothing. By the time they reached the room where the painting hung, most of the guests had already gone back to the atrium.

“This room is going to be closed temporarily,” a guard by the door told them. “You can come back and look as soon as the speaker is done.”

“Our mistake, sorry.” Danny said, giving him an affable smile. They turned and started to walk back up the hall.

Suddenly, the door to the left of the galleries burst open and a man in an apron spilled out. “Fire, fire! We need to evacuate!”

“Hey, take it easy,” the security guard said, stepping towards him. “This event is a big deal, we can't just evacuate for a little grease fire!”

The waiter shook his head. “No, no! We must leave.”

The guard gave an impatient sigh, but didn't seem convinced.

“Should…” Rusty cleared his throat. “Should we go tell somebody? I don't wanna be in here if this place burns down.”

“No, jeez, it's probably not that big a deal!” The guard said, grimacing. “I'll go check on it.” He stomped into the kitchen, the waiter trailing behind. Danny slipped a handful of bills into his apron pocket as he passed and nodded to Rusty.

“Two minutes.”

Rusty hurried back to the gallery doors, pulling his lockpicking kit from the inside pocket of his tux. He dropped to his knees and gave the doorknob an experimental jiggle. To his surprise, it swung open immediately. He looked over his shoulder at Danny, who shrugged, bewildered. There wasn't time to marvel at the shoddy security, so he stood back up and pushed the door open.

“Give me fifteen seconds and then activate the pinch.”

Danny nodded and Rusty slipped through the door and shut it carefully. He crossed the small room in three strides and reached the Rembrandt. He slipped his gloves on just as the lights blinked out, leaving him in complete darkness. Counting the seconds in his head, Rusty pulled out his penlight and got to work.

He was carefully sliding the canvas into the document tube when the creak of the door made him jump.

“You've got about twenty-three seconds,” Danny stage-whispered, sidling up alongside him.

Rusty grinned even though it was too dark to see. “You can't rush genius.” He eased the tube into the hidden pocket in the leg of his slacks.

“I don't see any geniuses around,” Danny murmured, smirk evident in his voice.

“Fuck off.”

The lights flipped back on and both men blinked, trying to get their bearings in the sudden brightness. Rusty shoved the last of the tools back into his pocket and glanced over at Danny.

“Nicely done,” he complimented, nodding at the forgery on the wall.

“I'll take that as a retraction on the genius comment,” Rusty returned dryly. “Let's get out of here.”

They'd taken a single step towards the door when it swung open and Reginald Jacoby bustled in.

Before Rusty could even process what was happening, Danny spun and shoved him against the wall next to the fake Rembrandt. He opened his mouth to protest, but suddenly Danny's lips were on his and  _ Danny was kissing him. _

At a loss for what to do, Rusty fumbled for Danny's jacket, clutching at him for balance. After a few startled seconds, his brain came back online and he realized that Danny was trying to save their cover. He kissed him back then, because he was a damn fine conman and he wasn't about to compromise the job. But mostly because he was tired of pretending that he hadn't wanted this since he was sixteen years old.

Danny kissed as well as he danced, or tricked people out of their money. His mouth was hot and perfect, and he gave a pleased gasp when Rusty bit down on his bottom lip. His tongue was in Rusty's mouth and his hand was on his face. Rusty's chest ached from not breathing. Danny kissed the same way he talked when he was trying to get Rusty to go along with one of his grandiose plans--insistent and familiar and impossible to say no to.

And then Danny wasn't kissing him anymore. Rusty opened his eyes and Danny was a couple feet away, eyes wide in shock and embarrassment as he turned to Jacoby.

“Oh my god, Mr. Jacoby, I'm so sorry. The door was open and the lights were out…this was totally inappropriate, I swear I never do stuff like this, but we had a couple of drinks and--”

“Don't be silly, Daniel,” mercifully Jacoby cut him off. “I'd have a hard time keeping my hands to myself if I had a catch like yours, too.” He chuckled, wiggling his fingers in a wave. “Hello, Robert.”

Rusty felt heat rising to his face and was glad Danny was facing away. Rusty Ryan certainly didn't blush.

“Nonetheless, we should have been more, ah, discreet.” Danny said, playing the humiliated paramour to the hilt. Rusty suspected he might be enjoying himself a little too much. He focused on that, on the con, so he wouldn't have to think about what had just happened.

“Perhaps don't choose my private gallery next time?” Jacoby suggested, not unkindly.

“Absolutely. Understood, sir. Thank you.”

“If you boys are still interested, I believe our restorationist is concluding her talk.”

“Yes,” Rusty grabbed onto it like a lifeline, “we'll just go catch the end of it. Thank you, Mr. Jacoby.”

The old man nodded, taking a few more steps into the room and sitting down on the viewing bench. “I shall rest here. Please send Barnaby to let me know when she is finished.” He winked at Danny. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

They beat a quick retreat. Neither of them said a word as they slipped into the service hallway, and took the elevator down to the ground floor.  They got into the rental Danny had procured and drove away. Danny didn't speak, his hands at an exact ten-and-two on the steering wheel. Rusty kept his eyes straight ahead, resisting the urge to touch his own mouth the entire drive back to the hotel. 

 

*

 

Rusty and Danny had never been the types to fill quiet with unnecessary chatter, but by the time they reached Danny's hotel room, the silence was overwhelming. Danny's shoulders were relaxed as he went to the bar and poured them both a glass of wine, but Rusty didn't doubt for a second that he was perfectly aware of the tension. He pulled the document tube out of his pocket and set it down on the coffee table and Danny's eyes instantly snapped to his face.

“Going somewhere?”

“Bed, ideally.” Rusty deadpanned.

“C’mon, Rus…” Danny said, and that placating tone was what finally sparked his temper. He clawed at his bowtie, yanking it off and tossing it away.

“Don't.”

“Rusty.”

“You know.”

Danny's throat worked, but he didn't ask for clarification. “Yes.”

“You've always known.”

“What? No, I--”

“Don't lie, Danny, not to me.”

Danny set down his glass with a little more force them necessary. “I didn't. I mean, I had an idea, but I didn't  _ know. _ ”

Rusty shoved his hands into his pockets. “So you knew, and you still didn't think that maybe this particular con wasn't a great idea? Just wanted to see me thrown off-balance that badly?”

“Jesus, no!” Danny snapped. He ran a hand through his hair. It stuck up at odd angles, but he didn't seem to notice. “I didn't really know until Isabel left.”

Rusty went completely still. He opened his mouth to object, but Danny held a hand up to forestall him.

“She told Tess, and Tess told me.” Danny looked up at him, expression pained. “Rus. If I had known for sure, don't you think I would've done something a long time ago?”

“You didn't want to,” Rusty retorted, but he could hear the uncertainty in his own voice.

Danny shook his head. “I did, but was never sure. I couldn't leap without looking.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his only tell.

Rusty took a cautious step closer. “You always leap without looking.”

“Yeah, well.” Danny met his eyes. “This was too important.”

This time it was Rusty that moved first, crowding Danny up against the bar. Danny's hands came up automatically and settled on his hips.  He smirked, quirking an eyebrow at Rusty. “You know what the most ridiculous part is?” He said in a conspiratorial tone, “there was no job here.”

Rusty blinked. “You conned me?”

“You weren't answering your phone!”

“You conned  _ me _ !”

Danny's answering grin was sheepish. “Saul told me Reggie needed a favor. His insurance refused to cover Barnaby, so he wanted to force them to pay on the Rembrandt. In return he said he'd help with the pretend couple bit.”

“You're unbelievable! I held your hand through half of that dinner!”

Danny chuckled. “Don't act like you didn't like it.”

Rusty gaped at him. “Wait, you told Saul? Did you tell Bash and Linus too?”

“I think Linus’ exact response was ‘thank Christ, it's about time.’” Danny sounded far too pleased with himself. Rusty groaned. “It was actually kinda sweet.”

Rusty leveled a stare at him. “So how do I know this isn't another con?”

In response, Danny hooked an arm around his neck and hauled him in for a kiss, which was kinda exactly what Rusty had been gunning for. He slid a hand into Danny's hair and angled him so he could deepen the kiss. Danny made a strangled sound, fingers tightening on Rusty's hip. It was incredibly gratifying.

Danny broke away, panting. “So I have this idea…” He put a hand on Rusty's chest, forcing him to walk backwards away from the living area.

“Is it a good idea?” Rusty stopped in the bedroom doorway. He grabbed Danny's wrist and spun so he had him pinned against the doorframe.

“All my ideas are good,” Danny said, trying to sound affronted. The effect was ruined by the way his voice went all breathy as Rusty mouthed along his jawline.

“Mm,” Rusty bit at his pulse. “Even that one time in Reno?”

“ _ Most _ of my ideas are good,” conceded Danny. “Trust me, this is my best idea yet.” He tilted Rusty's face up so he could kiss him again. “You with me?”

“You know I am.” He shoved Danny backwards until he fell back onto the bed.

Rusty followed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written Ocean's fic before, and it was quite challenging. Rusty and Danny have a very specific cadence to their dialogue and it doesn't come through as well without Pitt and Clooney's body language and remarkable chemistry. I hope I did them justice.


End file.
